I knew Wuhan before it was a virus

Yellow Crane Tower, Wuhan, China

There seems to be a bit of debate going on about where the virus came from. Donald Trump (and a few scientists) point to China. The Chinese think that American soldiers may have brought it with them. And of course, there are the conspiracy theories.

Lifeinlifts.com doesn’t want to expand on that particular thread. Just check out social media for a barrage of Sino-US finger-pointing.

I’d like instead to write about Wuhan and Hubei, two names that weren’t particularly well known six months ago. They’re incredibly well known now, aren’t they? New acquaintances used to ask “So, have you been in Guangzhou all this time?

I’d reply that yes, I had been in Guangzhou for the most part.

Oh, where were you before Guangzhou?

Hubei.”

Confused silence. “Where’s that?”

“Y’know, Wuhan…”

“Nope.”

And the question would be asked repeatedly throughout the years. This, despite Wuhan acting as a major transportation hub – a kind of China Chicago. The population was bigger than Guangzhou back then. Now it’s China’s ninth-largest city at 11 million. Guangzhou ranks fifth. Wuhan is also the provincial capital of Hubei.

Western China Experts know of Hubei. Some travelled (note the use of the past tense) to Wuhan regularly on business. All Chinese know of Hubei. It has some pretty significant ancient history and is also home to the Three Gorges Dam.

In late 2000, a Wuhan local taught me how to count in Chinese. We were on a 14-hour train ride to his hometown. No-one on the train spoke English. The station, while it was large by New Zealand standards, was nothing like the large, ultra-modern Wuhan station seen on the news in recent months.

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Wuhan station in 2019

October, 2000

My “minders” had met me at the platform with a welcoming placard designed for a female teacher. They quickly hid it from view when they saw my hairy face. We drove through the large industrial city towards the western outskirts. They told me that Wuhan was actually a combination of three cities: Hankou (where I’d arrived), Wuchang (Chairman Mao wrote a famous poem about a Wuchang fish), and Hanyang. There was a massive bridge that spanned the Yangtze River, a tall tower, and a beautiful, large pagoda. The city was enormous, polluted and, for a boy from New Zealand, all very overwhelming.

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I was off to live in Jingmen – a small city four hours inland.

We found a restaurant in the middle of nowhere. The food was good but the experience weird. Mr Yang, a minor leader at my new school, toasted me for every sip of beer I took. I sipped, he sculled. Miss Liu, my contact for the year, didn’t drink. The driver sat outside.

The restaurant toilets were another culture shock. The urinal was a long white-tiled trough. It reminded me of the old ANZ Bank headquarters in Wellington. Another white-tiled trough acted as a zone principale – the place for number twos. A partitioned area, that was merely a metre in height between cubicles, was designed for squatting. Below lay a slightly angled (for better flow) communal drain than ran under all the cubicles. You could see the fruit of your neighbours’ efforts if you picked the right cubicle. There would be no keeping of secrets here.

There would be no peeing either. Even the most mentally resilient man would succumb to stagefright with the staring that accompanied this foreigner’s (bathroom) entrance. Oh, the culture shock! We wouldn’t pass another bathroom for two hours.

And we didn’t return to Wuhan for three months.

January 2001

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East Lake. Photo by V Menkov.

Wuhan was prettier in the spring. Mr Yang took me on a guided tour of some of the well-known sites of Wuhan. There was a nice restaurant lunch, paid for by the school, and a drive around the Wuhan University campus – a well-respected institute and scene of pitched battles in the mid-Sixties between Red Guard factions. We visited the East Lake and saw, from a distance, Chairman Mao’s villa that he took refuge in during the chaotic Cultural Revolution. We ate in another fancy restaurant that evening, again courtesy of the school.

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A really good photo of the Wuhan University Admin Building by someone calling themselves Howchou (this name actually translates into Very Ugly or Very Stinky, depending on the tone – but this photo is anything but ugly). The university was recently ranked 9th in China.

The food in Wuhan was really good. Spicy good. Lots of tofu and eggplant.

I missed my flight to Hong Kong the next day and let out a few expletives in Mr Yang’s company over some miscommunication about the departure time. He delighted in his recognition of the F-bomb and let out a genuine laugh. The airport was practically empty. Few could afford to fly back then. They managed another plane ticket – this time to Shenzhen. I think there were only ten people on the plane. I can only imagine just how large the Wuhan Tianhe International Airport is nowadays.

April 2001

A pal and I made a quick visit here to catch a flight to watch rugby in Shanghai. Wuhan was bustling at that time but seemed light years behind its coastal cousin. I mean Shanghai had Subway sandwiches and Irish pubs. Wuhan only had McDonald’s.

May 2001

The Hubei Provincial High School English Speech Finals were held in Wuhan. Memories are now vague except for the very talented students in attendance. My student Kathy was a hardworking soul but no match for the talent on show that day. She may have lost but McDonald’s was a good consolation prize – like a beacon of Michelin-level dining (due to the absence of almost any Western food in Jingmen).

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Like a naughty dream…

Hubei students were very diligent – they needed to be – their parents were on the bones of their backsides back then. The economy wasn’t particularly strong in 2001. How times have changed.

May 2020

It would be great to return to Hubei one day. Those earnest young students will now be harried parents working in a variety of careers. Many of my former colleagues will have retired. You wonder how they were affected by COVID-19 and if they’re okay. They were practical people and many pearls of wisdom were gathered from a year in Hubei.

I wish them well.

The Canton Quarantine!

The following blog entry was written three weeks ago – before the whole world went crazy.

The Canton Quarantine!

Hello from the land of beautiful isolation.

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Here you can experience the wonder of uncertainty. The uncertainty of not knowing when school starts. The uncertainty of not knowing when you can resume your job. The unfamiliarity of cabin fever. Four adults and two kids for much of the day. This must be what life on a fishing vessel feels like.

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I don’t suppose they let kids live on fishing vessels.

I’ve often wondered what my temperature is but now I have the luxury of getting it checked three to four times within an hour. During a trip to the supermarket (once at the entrance to the mall, once when entering the supermarket, and again when returning to my compound). I was 35.3 degrees upstairs and 36.0 degrees five minutes later in the local Starbucks.

We had been enjoying a two week holiday in New Zealand when Covid-19 struck. I’d hardly cried at the opportunity to spend another 14 days in the shaky isles. We swam in lakes and oceans, enjoyed geothermal hotpools and I’d even sampled Kerosene Creek. It took days to get the rusty smell off my shorts.

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Mount Maunganui, February 2020

What about our jobs in China?  Would we get paid any time soon?  Would the jobs still be there?  These thoughts played out in the background on our visits to tourist sites around the North Island.

There was the Spider House – a motel unit in Rotorua that had spiders in every room. It terrified the girls and they were happy to leave (we’d picked it especially for them as it had a pool and trampoline). A holiday park with large dinosaurs in every nook and cranny and a lovely but overcrowded pool. We stayed three nights in a Tauranga motel boasting unaltered 1970s interior design.

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The news was coming in thick and fast about China’s coronavirus. This has got to affect the sharemarket I thought. Then I had a coffee and promptly forgot about the sharemarket. Bugger.

Everyone eventually tires of living out of a suitcase. It was time to return to China.

Not wanting to sound like a snob here, but I rarely regard airport cleaners and security guards with envy. These must be trying jobs at the best of times, but as I stood near the check-in counters at Auckland International Airport, I actually wished I could go home with them. They got to stay in New Zealand!

We arrived in Singapore to a mix of masks and mugs (exposed faces). Our flight to Guangzhou was the emptiest I’d seen it in years. Even more than the early 2000s before China got rich. Every passenger was masked up. I’d never worn one before and it was irritating. The coronavirus (now named Covid-19) was beginning to feel very real.

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Fancy getting a whole row to myself.

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This good fortune had a flip side – at arrival when the men in Ghostbuster / Astronaut suits (Officials? Doctors?) boarded the plane. Someone seated three rows behind me had a fever. This resulted in passengers in rows 52 (me) to 59 getting taken off the plane to a separate area for processing. My family sat in row 51 and thus we were separated. I’d never seen such a large airport this empty. What had once been re nao (Chinese for lively) was like a hospital ward in the early hours of the morning. The tiled floors and white walls didn’t help the ambience.

There was a lot of passport checking and photocopying (the trees screamed out in pain at the amount of paper wasted). And jetlag. Fortunately, my family and I were reunited an hour later.

Life in the City

The streets were deserted and all (but two) exits to our compound were wired shut. Checkpoints were set up at parks and other public places. From a speaker, a recorded female voice warmly reminded citizens to wash hands thoroughly, avoid crowds, and exercise regularly.

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Security guards stood ready with electronic thermometers. The supermarket seemed pretty well-stocked. Plenty of fruit, vegetables, and toilet paper. Not the massive shortages witnessed in some parts of the country. There were fewer dairy products than before, so I bought a block of Irish cheese just in case.

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Flag raising ceremony via the iPad.

School eventually returned, albeit via the iPad. Kids took this as an opportunity to send rude emojis to each other during the lessons. To say that there were teething problems would be a bit of an understatement. I’ve had to keep our four year old away from the “classroom.”  This has become a fulltime job.

Three Weeks Later

We’re getting used to this sort of life. China is slowly getting back on its feet again while the rest of the world seems to have caught the Covid-19 bug. Miss K lies on her bed half asleep while the math teacher speaks animately through the iPad. I’ll take a walk, the same one I always take and see more vehicles and people than yesterday. No one knows when school will start again.

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“Plasticised” taxi in Guangzhou. Photo courtesy of K.Hill.

There seems to be confusion here as to where the virus actually originated. It has been suggested by some that COVID-19 actually originated in America!

We’re thinking of New Zealand – a country that has just gone into total lockdown for four weeks. And, we will think of those globally in a much worse situation than ours. Keep strong. We will pull through!

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Cake Test

She came bearing cake!  

Actually, she came out of the kitchen with a beautifully decorated chocolate cake bought from the bakery downstairs. I made some dull-witted comment about it being someone’s birthday. She, lacking a sense of humour at the best of times, frowned and said “No.” The cake was duly placed on the dining table.

The lesson continued for another five minutes before the kids scrambled to the table for an after-class snack.

Line up kids” she said with the passion of a bored immigration official.

Would they offer me a piece? And if they did, should I accept it?  It was already 9pm and I’d yet to have dinner. My abs of steel hadn’t exactly been on display recently. Would a slice of cake affect my ability to fit into that new pair of jeans?

One by one, the students collected their consignments. I engaged in a faux-packing of my belongings. Buying time, I fluffed around with textbooks, a small Sony wireless speaker, a thermos containing coffee, a manic looking dog hand-puppet, whiteboard markers…

The parents were now being offered slices of cake.

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I zipped up my bag with the following realisation: the buggers aren’t going to offer me a piece!   Or would they? I had second thoughts. I’d been overly quick to judge people (erroneously) in times past.

Shoes were slipped on and goodbyes were said. No offer of cake, I opened and shut, the door. And there I stood, waiting an interminable age for an elevator to arrive. Cakeless. Had I just been cake-snobbed?  Nineteen years in this country and I could count the number of cake-snobbing incidents on one hand.

It wasn’t about the cake. It was about the gesture. This act of snubbery won’t make-or-bake our relationship but it has made me question their commitment to my lessons.

The Cake Test

Lifeinlifts.com decided to conduct a little “light” research. Was it rude to offer cake to everyone in the apartment other than the teacher? What was the current societal standing of teachers in China? How often did this sort of cake-snobbery happen?  Did the snobbery occur only with cake, or with other food/drink items too?

Not wanting to jump on to the increasingly-popular China-bashing bandwagon, we decided to conduct a little survey over four days. The aim – to ascertain whether cake snobbery is a normal behaviour in China. I’d never really paid attention before.

Friday

Japanese-style cheesecake was offered in the first class (which I politely declined). Häagen-Dazs ice-cream cake was offered in the second. Goodness. One could get fat.

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Saturday

Lemon water was refreshing in one morning class while coffee and fruit were provided in the 1:30pm lesson. Toblerone chocolate was dished out to all and sundry in the 5pm lesson. Good stuff!

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Triangles have never been so fun! What’s your favourite shape? This staple of airport duty-free shops is very popular on the Mainland.

Sunday

A cantaloupe?  Wow, I didn’t expect to be given one of these melons. Not much from the other classes today, but then I am there to teach – not there to scoff cake. Two of the venues were in classroom settings and perhaps not the most appropriate places to break bread (or cake).

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Monday

Nothing offered by the first two classes – but then a glass of water is a rarefied object in those parts. I did, however, score a packet of freshly ground drip coffee from the third lesson – score!

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They are in the coffee business

 

The Findings

So, is it okay (in China) to cake snob your child’s teacher while feeding everyone else in the room?

No, it is not. And the number of people I spoke to about this incident agree that it was, deliberate or not, the height of rudeness. One major finding in this little piece of cake research is that I’ve realised just how generous people are here. Tea, earphones, melons, cookies, snacks, mooncakes, wine (before it became seen as a form of corruption), sandwiches are just some of the things that get offered to me on a regular basis.

Chinese hosts might dare I say it, be as (if not more) generous as their Western counterparts. One must try and find good from the bad and posit that without this act of thoughtlessness, I may well have continued taking the other clients for granted.

Here ends blog post number 49. Thanks so much for the support this year. Great to see readers from all over the world join us in 2019. It has been the icing on the…

 

 

The Carpark of No Parks

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They were cutting down trees last week. That’s why I had to park a block over by the 113 Middle School. It added 10 minutes to my journey. Such is life at the Carpark of No Parks. Nestled in a dated-looking compound constructed during the early 1990s, the architects of those days couldn’t envision a modern China with cars. You bought an apartment, a refrigerator, a microwave oven, and a bicycle. With these purchases, you were made.

Along came the boom years and everyone started buying a car. At first, they were Volkswagon Santanas (“lame” said an American living in Taiwan – they were driving luxury European cars there), then Japanese brands such as Honda, Toyota, and Nissan, before the arrival of German engineering (Porsche, BMW, Audi, and Mercedes).

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I first entered the Carpark of No Parks in 2018. Yes, there is ample parking, right next to the classroom. Yes, traffic is great in the afternoons. Yes, you’ll have no problems etc. etc.  Those little white lies (told to me by a parent) turned into the Wednesday of Many Headaches. Traffic was appalling – jams galore. Once you’d made it through the hell that is Guangzhou traffic you’d be greeted with an impersonal, unempathetic witches hat (an orange traffic cone).

This meant: “Don’t bother entering – you’re shit out of luck.

On the rare occasion that a park was available, one had to muster all skill/patience to manoeuvre the vehicle up on to curbside corner – mere millimetres from another vehicle. There was the 200 metre reverse-round-a-corner challenge – instructions given in a dialectical form of Mandarin that even a local would struggle to understand. The upside of this exercise? Valuable parking practice (of course).

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Toyota, RAV-4, one owner, good condition, low km’s…

A small group of parking attendants policed the area. Their dark skins divulged their southern Hainanese origins. They wore jet-black uniforms, not unlike those of an elite police squad (or the Khmer Rouge?). One gangly fellow, we’ll call him Jacob, assisted me in performing the 200-metre-reverse-round-a-corner-and-up-on-to-the-sidewalk-between-two-old-cars-challenge. He happened upon a newly-bought banana sitting on the passenger’s seat.

I’ll take that!” he said, reaching into the car via the open window. I sat dumbfounded as he walked off with my pre-class snack.

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The weeks passed and many bananas were shared. Spring Festival came and Jacob asked for a red envelope (lucky money). “Sorry, I don’t have cash.” I said.

“That’s alright. I have WeChat. Why don’t you just transfer money directly to my account?” he helpfully suggested.

No, I was already paying for a park but gave him five RMB as a tip. I didn’t want my car scratched.

We entered a yellow patch. Times became good and carparks were aplenty. You could choose where and how you parked. Jacob and pals still turned up hinting for bananas and money. They were given small amounts of both.  It appears that the old maxim really does hold true – money opens doors.

If only I could get Jacob to open mine.

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“What else have got stashed away in there?”

 

Thanks for your support and comments. This is Lifeinlifts.com’s 48th blog. Join us in celebration when we reach the 50th blog. We’ll have street beers and barbequed squid across the road!

The Worst Music in the World

What do you think is the worst music in the world?  The worst genre?  The genre that parades itself as music but, in your opinion, isn’t actually music – but noise?

My father called hip-hop the “travesty of music“. Heavy metal doesn’t rock his boat either.

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N.W.A. – not everybody’s cup of tea

I’d answer that the worst music in the world is Cantonese Opera. There, said it – online even. I’ve been saying it to myself for 18 years now – pretty much the entire duration I’ve lived in Canton / Guangzhou. My parents-in-law love it. I’ve endured it most mornings and feel that it’s time to share this genre with the world.

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Music can grow on the listener. Familiarity often breeds approval. Your pal’s taste in jazz may become less irritating once you’ve become accustomed to the jarring, loose rhythmic instrumentation of a late-sixties Miles Davis album (think Bitches Brew). Country music is another grower with its warm melodies and folkish, working-class lyrics.

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So, what does Cantonese Opera sound like?  There are high pitched feminine squeals, cymbal crashes, wooden tapping, alien instrumentation, climaxes and lulls, artillery fire and lullabies. It’s hard to categorize something that is so very foreign to Western ears. Complicated time structures and banjo-like string instruments, heavy make-up and elaborate costumes, traditional roles, and characters and representations of history. When you consider the included acrobatics, martial arts, and complex footwork performed then one realises Cantonese Opera isn’t as simplistically raucous as it first appears.

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No, that’s not a banjo on the far right.

One cannot say that it is an idiotic genre or music or that it is appreciated by idiots. The Chinese are an intelligent group of people. They wouldn’t settle for rubbish, surely.

Actors need to learn a range of skills to become well-rounded in this genre. Cantonese Opera was also used as a propaganda vehicle by leaders in earlier times. It was also used to tell audiences stories of good moral and ethical behaviour before formal education became widespread in China.

It is well beyond the scope of this humble blog to explain in detail the inner workings of Cantonese Opera. This really would be the blind leading the blind. There is a lot to explain and the truly interested could consult Google or Wikipedia to learn more. The Wikipedia entry bizarrely mentioned a rift between two famous Cantonese Opera performers. It involved cake.

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“You never thanked me for the cake!”

Lifeinlifts.com is able, however, share some photos from the local Cantonese Opera Museum. Yes, there is a museum dedicated to this traditional Chinese art form. I’ve been here twice and remained as puzzled as ever by Cantonese Opera.

A New Zealand-based friend asked me about the popularity of Cantonese Opera. Who actually likes it?  What age group?  The over 50s seem to enjoy it though some primary aged students have taken up the artform in recent years. I’ve asked my students many times:

“Who here likes Cantonese Opera?”

The answer is always (yes always) a resounding “NO!”

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Beard supplies

The museum is actually very well presented, using a mix of open spaces, lighting, technology, and tradition (check out the garden at the entrance – wow!). Cantonese Opera is a royal pain the backside when played at 6am through a distorted transistor radio.  Thank my mother-in-law for that. It’s also pretty bad on a Sunday night after a heavy weekend of teaching. That said, even I enjoyed a visit here.

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I’ll leave you with an interesting video on display at the museum. It features a man, quite an esteemed actor apparently, playing the role of a villain (or wild boar – take your pick). So enjoyable it was – I watched it three times.

Thanks for your support!

Walking to School in China – What’s it Like?

School is out in China. The summer holidays have begun. This means no more homework, parent-teacher meetings, or tantrums. No more early morning starts, no more crowded lift (elevator) rides to the first floor. No more Mrs. Pigeonface.

We’ll be somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, maybe a cafe in Portland or the Boeing Museum in Seattle, and my eyes will tear up at the thought of all that we’re missing… until September 1 that is. Six weeks without these colourful walks to school. Sniff.

The daily walk to school is an exercise in people-watching. The armchair sociologist’s wet dream. Here are some of the things I’ll miss.

Belt Man

This fellow sells belts outside the school every second Friday. Dressed in camo pants and military haircut he hectors us about the foolishness of missing out on a deal. “Come buy your belts now or you’ll miss out!”  He’s back again with the same product line a fortnight later.  Even my nine year old daughter can see through his sophisticated marketing strategy.

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Boy have I got a deal for you!

BFP

The Bitchfaced Princess (BFP) takes her son to school at the same every day. She is 30-something and in very good shape. Pity about the permanent scowl she wears. The wind must have changed during a particularly bad moment in time. She sees me coming and looks the other way!

The Effeminate Man

This guy rocks. Not many males here would have the bravery to wear a rainbow coloured polo shirt with earring and necklace in China?  His look is ever-changing but his designer (grey) hair remains timeless.

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Resplendent in fluorescent yellow

Grandpa

This old codger takes his rebellious grandson to school every day. He once called me a foreign devil!  Don’t worry about me mate, fix your grandson’s ill-fitting uniform first.

GG Bond

GG Bond is a Chinese cartoon superhero. Piggish in nature, he has a loyal following of about 200 million kids. GG Bond is a nickname for a piggish-looking motorscooting parent who glares at me most mornings. Never a smile, never a hello – just an unfriendly glare with a pair of GG Bondish eyes!

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Vat n kak in die veld

I never thought this Afrikaans slang/saying would make its way to the blog. It translates into “take a sh*t in the fields”. This little boy didn’t quite get as far as the fields. He was spotted fertilising our gardens one morning on my way home from school.

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Good on you son!

There was a public toilet right behind him.

Sexy Machinery

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Thomas the Tank Engine’s poorer cousin

It smells as good as it looks.

Pedestrian Friendly Walkways

If there’s a road – we’ll dig it up. We’ll also block commuters from getting to work.

 

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They’re using Japanese machinery!

 

Bank Robberies

This caused quite an alarm

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There was a lot of shouting

Until we realised it was just a drill. Pity there weren’t signs posted outside informing the small crowd of horrified passersby.

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Bruce Lee found his way back into the money

Farewell My Little Walk

As we take in the sights of the Vancouver waterfront and natural beauty of British Columbia, I’ll pause for a second and think of…

 

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The rice seller

 

And…

 

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The chicken lady

 

And realise that while those North American places are stunningly beautiful, they’ll never match the Liwan District of Guangzhou for re nao (liveliness) and luan (chaos).

There’s never a dull moment. Enjoy your summer holiday (unless you live in the southern hemisphere and are enduring a bleak and nasty winter).

Thanks for reading.

 

 

 

 

The Ridiculousness of Chinese Elevators

I hate taking the lift here. There said it – no fairy dusting the truth. Sure, the elevator is a great place to meet neighbours and network. You might see a cute kid or two, maybe a puppy or a kindly educated grandmother. More often than not it’s a grumpy old bugger / buggeress that shuffles in and gives you the stink eye.

If looks could kill.

Lifeinlifts.com hasn’t discussed elevators for quite some time. Let’s break the drought and explore areas of “lift ridiculousness” in May 2019.

Lift Advertising

Air China now flies direct to Johannesburg said the advertisement. The accompanying picture showed Cape Town.

 

 

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Advertising is a funny thing here in China. Things sell best when a celebrity is involved. That’s the same anywhere, isn’t it? Here, the celebrity needs to flash the thumbs up or show the Richard Nixon victory sign. Products and services need to be marketed in a  luxuriant way, showing a life of opulence that awaits when you choose the right brand. The West is just as guilty of this sort of manipulation but you wonder if we’re not stuck in a kind of time warp in China.

Marketing experts used to view their target Chinese audiences as being rather unsophisticated. You wonder sometimes whether their thinking has changed…

 

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Water!  Darling you shouldn’t have…

This advertisement for Ganten water (shot by famous actress Jing Tian and American model Donny Lewis) is ubiquitous in lifts throughout the city. My nine year old daughter cannot get her head around the message and wonders why two oversized water bottles are in the backseat. There are some things a father just can’t answer.

Bumrushers

These are the people whose time is more important than yours. They rush the lift before you exit. The humid weather of May has seen a 50% increase in incidents of elevator bumrushing (China Elevator Bumrush Quarterly Review, 2019).

Loud Conversationalists

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It’s really a no-no. Fourteen other people don’t need to hear you and your husband discussing your grocery shopping list at 120 decibels. Nor do they need to know about the paint you plan to use in the kitchen.

Offensive Odours

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Courtesy of Wikihow.com

Curry beef balls are best enjoyed outdoors, not in transit!  Also, take note Mr. Wang – it is not okay to rip loudly / cut the cheese in an elevator, especially when you’re only three floors from your destination.  Do you think that we can’t hear / smell it?

Mobile DJs

This video clip was filmed on Tuesday, May 21. To the right – me. On the left, a middle-aged woman with a loud smartphone stuffed into her pocket. This really was a compulsory concert. Confined space with nowhere to go!  Talk about a captive audience. The video doesn’t capture just how loud the music really was.

 

 

Summary

Well, May is almost to a close. Yes – the weather and traffic have both been terrible in Guangzhou but the weather and traffic are nothing if not consistent.

You know life is going pretty well when all you’ve really got to complain about is the elevators!

Upcoming blog posts include: Trials and Tribulations of Finding a Kindergarten in China, Unlikely Bedfellows – Sex Markets and Primary Schools, and The Daily Walk of Death.

Thanks for reading. Your support is much appreciated.

 

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But you can understand why they do it – surely!  Baselinemag.com

 

 

The Nibbler on the Roof

Something strange has been going on in Canton. It’s a bit like saying that there’s sand at the beach. Guangzhou is, more often than not, a marathon of the weird and wonderful. A telethon of trials and tribulations.

Someone has been eating on an overpass nearby. This pattern became apparent last September when several empty crisp packets were spotted on a flight of steps at one end of the bridge. Their place was taken by oily plastic containers the following day. He (let’s assume it was a male) had dined out on Sichuan hotpot.

 

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This behaviour continued for a few weeks before the author had an idea – let’s document the detritus left by this scoundrel and put it in a blog! 

One only needs a smartphone to capture these gormandic moments. Days of al fresco dining turned into months of munch and mess. Who was this bold banqueter?  Was he a homeless man with nowhere to go or some hapless soul escaping a tiger wife (a local term for angry woman)? Perhaps the kids got too much so he sought solace in food. He could have been on his way home from the pub?

He left his waste (ladies, aren’t you glad this mystery person is a male?) in exactly the same spot every time. He was nothing if not consistent.

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Pedestrians were forced to navigate a trail of KFC chicken legs, instant noodles, cup cakes, biscuits, spicy beef hotpot, curry beef balls, soup, apples, watermelon peel and oranges, french fries, sandwiches, sausages, and bowls of rice. There is more but my memory is not what it used to be.

 

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Don’t waste rice!

 

He has offended for months without apprehension. It seems likely that his feasting has been occurring during the small hours. The cleaners come at about 8:30am and clean up the rubbish. The area is usually spotless during the day. An idea was to go there one night and catch him in action – surprise him mid-mouthful. Then there was another dilemma – ethics (yes, a killjoy word). Could one go up to him and say:

Hello, Mr. Homeless Person can I interview you for the school newspaper?

Or “Stop right there! I’d like to make a citizen’s arrest!

So, the glutton remains a mystery, though I do have my suspicions. Like Jack the Ripper, albeit this one is a rather harmless rogue, he hasn’t been caught in the act.

 

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Peanuts?

 

Last week, a Bob Marley lookalike was seen acting suspiciously on the bridge. I took a photo of him from behind. He wasn’t caught in the actual act of overpass al fresco but a detective would put him on a list of possible suspects.

 

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And there he goes…

 

So, at this juncture, the nibbler remains a mystery. Who are you sneaky snacker and can you tidy up after yourself?

To be continued…..

 

Easter… by China

7am

Was it really Easter?  There was absolutely no evidence here on the streets in southern China. Perhaps it is an unhelpful distraction. One that the hard-working population didn’t need to be bothered by.

Easter Sunday started out like any other day. A dash across the city in a scene reminiscent of 1980s computer games. Avoid slow drivers and careless pedestrians. Dodge oncoming vehicles and wobbly bicycles.

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8:45am

Someone forgot the key to the classroom. There was a congregation of apologetic parents milling about the entrance. It was damp outside and it was suggested that I begin the lesson in the covered area next to the bikes.

Have a seat” I said. They couldn’t – everything was wet. Thankfully the key was found and the lesson proceeded inside.

11am

blur cars dew drops
No sun for weeks

It was damp at the next venue. This made the students restless. A large black bug rested on my neck and began sucking blood. What was it?  No-one could identify. Larger than a mosquito and smaller than a fly.

2:00pm

The roads were wet and someone arranged a heavy downpour at the exact moment I needed to exit the car. You can go through several pairs of shoes on a weekend here.

Time for the bottom-ranked class. It’s week eight and they’ve been bad in all aspects of their study and conduct.  There were six kids in attendance but only four books.

Sorry, I forgot my book.”

And “I’ve lost it. Ha ha.”  That cute laugh was the pits.

Had they prepared their English speeches? I asked.  The task was assigned on March the 23rd. Twenty-eight days would be enough to complete such a task. Nope, the pressure of computer games and reality TV binge-watching was too much. Only one girl was ready.

Okay, how about your homework on page 100?  Oh, you haven’t done that either?  Right, it’s punishment time – take out your activity books and begin completing the exercises on page 40.

They hadn’t remembered to bring their activity books. Or their pens.

silhouette and grayscale photography of man standing under the rain

It was at this point that I exited the classroom and stood outside. It was still raining. The 25-year-old me would have quit – there and then. Stormed off in a huff. Sulked even. The 40-something me thought about some of the mentally unbalanced people that wander the neighbourhood here. Nutter plus knife – you could imagine the headlines:

Foreign Teacher Abandons Students Moments Before Brutal Slaying and Irresponsible Kiwi Expat Walks Out on Kids – Throws China-NZ Relations Into Turmoil!

I stayed and returned to the lesson. It took a monumental amount of patience not to throw something at them.

4:45pm

Lesson Four (these little darlings were exposed in a previous blog) also had a speech competition. Celia (20 minutes late) refused to budge. Come on, share just a couple of sentences. She hid behind her knees.

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You can’t see me but I can you!

Brother Jeremy invented an entirely new lexicon:

Duplo Mountain in air conditioner” and “Pressure from the Carrot family brought problems with young.”  Deep, though he couldn’t clarify what “pervert Peru” was supposed to mean.

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Duplo mountains in the air conditioner!

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I found myself asking – if this is Easter, why does it feel like I’ve entered Hell?

6:20pm

Then a quick trip home to hide easter eggs for my daughters and a cup of coffee. Last year, they fought bitterly over who got more eggs. On Sunday they cooperated and worked together. The egg hunt proved so popular that they made their mother hide the eggs a second time.

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7:30pm

The final lesson was a kindergarten level class. Thank heavens the kids were good tonight. Each kid received a little egg. The eggs rolled off the table and under the chairs. One girl lost hers and enlisted a number of the parents to search for the missing item. It became a real life egg hunt.

There were tears when her helpers came up empty-handed.

8:45pm

Dreams of neck massages, hearty dinners, and an ice-cold beverage.

9:15pm

Home to Peppa Pig reruns and poorly edited English newspapers.

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Spot the typo

11:45pm

Homework completed!  No, not mine.

Postscript

Did you have a wonderful Easter holiday?  Did the Easter bunny visit your home?  What kind of stories do rabbits like best?  Ones with hoppy endings!

Thanks for reading. Your support is much appreciated.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dumbo for Dummies (A Chinese Cinematic Experience)

Ah, the movies in China. Flashing lights, suspense, excitement, funny smells, and sound effects – and that’s before the film has even started!

multi colored chairs in row

There’s a cinema a mere stone’s throw from Block Six (our building). It’s often empty and one feels a sense of “social responsibility” to attend such a venue if only to delay its inevitable demise. Many expats now avoid this form of entertainment due to the peculiarities of movie-going in China.

Frodo Baggins (Lord of the Rings) was no match for the afternoon sun when the cinema door opened. Liam Neeson got drowned out by audience chatter like some hapless politician. We’ve observed Minions (Despicable Me) being sworn at and, most surprisingly, Darth Vader being interrupted by a man on his mobile phone. Who’d have thought?

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Darth Vader in happier times

Darth Vader: “I’m altering the deal, pray I don’t alter it “

Uncouth man: “Lao Xiong, I’m in the cinema watching Star Wars!  Yes, it’s really good though I can’t understand what they’re saying! Tonight?  Yes, I’ll meet you for dinner at 7pm”

Once, the Chinese subtitles were out of sync with the (Western) actor’s voices, confusing many and leading to an audience walkout. We had the remaining 90 minutes to ourselves that day. Bliss.

A Dog’s Way Home, a fluffy family film about a dog finding its way home, was attended by four people (my daughter and I, plus an elderly Cantonese couple who talked loudly throughout). Recent cinematic experiences had seemed okay so we decided to see…

Dumbo (2019)

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Dumbo’s long-suffering mother

There was a choice of Dumbo or the second Lego Movie. We chose the former. Surely there couldn’t be anyone attending the theatre on a Friday morning (it was the Qingming Festival too). Well, there was a good-sized crowd including a former student who bellowed my name and drew everyone’s attention to the presence of a foreigner.

The movie started and we (daughter and I) had the entire fourth row to ourselves.  Pure heaven. Late arrivers were being ushered to their seats in different rows.

The Dumbo movie was 15 minutes in when a middle-aged staff member walked towards us, torch in hand. Perhaps she’d spotted us eating snacks from home. No, she was a solo movie-goer and that wasn’t a torch. It was an iPhone. Perhaps she was seated in our row. Maybe she was sitting right next to me despite the six other EMPTY seats available. She crashlanded in her seat, employed my drink holder for her Pepsi and her drink holder for the popcorn. There was also a faint whiff of body odour. No, I’m not being nasty.

Darn it.

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Deep breaths…

She laughed, slurped, squirmed, wriggled, jolted upright, and at one point turned abruptly to stare at us. It was just like being in economy class.

The movie was engaging. Monkeys, snakes, clowns, a one-armed man (Colin Farrell), a very short man (Danny DeVito), an Oscar winner (Michael Keaton) and plenty of exquisite set designs. Woman-with-glasses was forgotten for the next 40 minutes until she started checking her phone. The iPhone’s glow was more obvious than Dumbo’s ears.

Suddenly, a restless toddler stood up from behind and whacked the woman’s head! Triumph!

Karma they say is a… breath of fresh air!!

Ratings (out of 10)

Dumbo: 8.0

Audience behaviour: 6.5 (Well done Guangzhou!)